


Orange Colored Sky

by getoffmyhead



Series: Unforgettable [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Geno Never Joined the NHL, M/M, Olympics Hookup, Team Canada, Team Russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmyhead/pseuds/getoffmyhead
Summary: Sid always heard about the Olympics, how everybody hooked up there. He assumed it was like the Cup stories: half-truths and big fish tales that got blown completely out of proportion. Even if it was true, he had no intention of participating. He just wanted to hang out with his family and play for his country.Then he met Evgeni "Call me Zhenya" Malkin.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: Unforgettable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559743
Comments: 27
Kudos: 202





	Orange Colored Sky

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't like WIPs, maybe give this a month. There will be four separate works in the series before all is said and done. I think this one stands alone okay, but just a heads up. All four parts are drafted (just being slowly edited) and will be up by the end of December.

**Vancouver, B.C.**

**2010**

Sid liked to think he played it pretty cool when his country called him to join the national team for the winter Olympics in Vancouver. He felt he remained calm on the phone, didn’t accept too quickly, and nobody was around to see his celly in his kitchen after he hung up. Sid acted like he was big-league, like he knew all along Team Canada would want him.

Sid even managed to stay mellow when he called his parents. He centered the conversation around asking if they could get time off in February and join him--making travel plans while secretly his heart soared. The pride in his father’s voice almost broke him, nearly made the joy bubble over, but Sid kept his cool. He knew what he was doing. He belonged on Team Canada, he told himself.

Stepping off the plane in Vancouver, Sid's grasp on his carefully-maintained confidence began to slip. Standing alone and wrong-footed in the strange airport, Sid didn’t feel very big-league--he felt lost.

Not for the first time, Sid wished Flower had managed to book the same flight, but he was flying in later with his girlfriend. Sid would be more comfortable with at least one teammate around. He blinked up at the signs trying to get his bearings and find baggage claim. He had flown into Vancouver half a dozen times since his start in the NHL but never been inside the airport--the team's charter usually taxied them to a private unloading area to pile onto a bus to their hotel.

When he found what he was looking for, Sid swooped his bag off the carousel and slung it over his shoulder. The team shipped his gear down with all the other essentials--carefully packed away, so there was no risk of losing anything. The only thing Sid had to worry about was a travel bag of clothes and toiletries. Everything else would be taken care of.

The team told Sid to call when he got in--they would take care of picking him up from the airport. Standing at the glass entrance looking out at the cloudy day, Sid flipped open his phone and dialed the number the team gave him.

A driver arrived for Sid in less than five minutes, obviously having been on standby for players. Sid was glad the driver, who introduced himself as Tony, didn't mind when Sid took the passenger seat. It felt less lonely to have someone to chat with while they made the journey to Olympic Village.

Tony worked for one of the minor league teams in Vancouver, doing this and that for them around the arena. “A Jack of all trades,” Tony laughed. He obviously knew who Sid was, but he didn’t seem particularly impressed. Sid couldn’t exactly be offended. Five years in the NHL and his team only made the playoffs once, the year before. They were eliminated in the first round.

Tony wished Sid luck for the games when he dropped him off, and Sid was alone again. He shouldered his bag and trudged into the building to find the check-in.

The check-in area was barren. There were three Olympic representatives behind the desk, but they were idly chatting without anything to do. One of them, a woman with curly hair, smiled at him when he approached.

"Evening, honey. You checking in?"

"Yeah, I'm Sid. Sidney Crosby," he corrected quickly, and she fought hard against a laugh.

"I know that, dear. You're an eager beaver, huh? You're the first one here."

"The first...athlete?"

At that, she did laugh at him. "No, honey. The first hockey player. Canadian, anyways. We've got a few Swedes here and there. Most of Finland arrived this morning. Oh, and Russia, of course." She said it with fond exasperation, as though Sid should be in on a joke he wasn't getting. "Russia always travels together," she explained, answering his questioning look.

"Oh," Sid replied dully. He wished Canada had done the same. "That's good. Good for unity, I guess."

"I guess," she echoed as she wrote something down on a list of athlete names. "Okay. Gotcha all checked in. Your room is written here. You'll be on the same floor as all the other hockey players, so it'll be pretty quiet for now. There's a cafeteria down the hall and a gym across the way--out those doors to the left. If you need anything, just let one of us know, and we'll get you taken care of."

"Thanks," Sid said, and he willed his feet to move away, back to the lonely walk. He took the stairs up to his floor to keep shaking off the jetlag and found his room. He shouldered the door open and stepped in.

The room looked blank. It wasn't bleak, but it was completely empty. The walls were white and sterile. Sid breathed a sigh of relief to see that there were two beds. At least he wouldn't be alone the whole three weeks. Once his roommate arrived, he would have someone to drown out the silence.

Sid tried to be patient and deal with the isolation, but he only lasted ten minutes in the room before he was out the door again.

The lady with the curly hair smiled patiently at Sid when he returned. "Forget something, hun?"

"Not really. I was just wondering. Do you know where I could get a beer?"

She directed Sid toward the main road, just a short walk away. Restaurants and bars lined the street, and he picked the one without too many neon lights at the front. Inside, he was relieved to find rows of televisions over the long bar--all playing various sports--and only a dozen or so patrons, most of which were playing pool at the back. He eased in unobtrusively and took a seat at the corner of the bar.

The bartender--a tall, blond guy with sleeves of tattoos--did a double-take at him, and Sid fought not to cringe. He really wasn't in the mood to talk about the Penguins and their struggle to stay in the second wild-card spot, but it was too late to run away. Sid just grinned and braced.

"Evening," the bartender said smoothly. He flashed a roguish grin and leaned on the bar near Sid. "What can I get you?"

"What's on tap?"

The bartender's Han Solo smile widened. "There's a lot. Let me guess--you're a Molson guy."

Sid couldn't deny it. He shrugged. "Yeah, Molson's good."

"Cool. Gimme one sec."

Sid watched the bartender grab a glass and stand in front of the row of taps, considering, before he reached for one of the handles. He filled the glass and returned to Sid to slide it over.

"Give that a try."

Sid took the beer and sipped it. "That's good. It's not Molson, though."

"You did not come all the way to Vancouver BC to drink Molson, Mr. Crosby," the bartender scolded with a laugh in his blue eyes. "It's local. Steel & Oak, just up the road."

Sid took another sip, and the bartender watched, eyes lit up like the pregame ice in Tampa--electric blue. His lips curved in a perpetual natural smile, framed by a neatly-trimmed blond beard. He wasn't bad looking at all. Sid leaned in to ask for the guy's name.

Across the bar, another patron called for the bartender's attention in a thick but unidentifiable accent. The bartender pulled back, offered an apologetic shrug, and went away to do his job, leaving Sid with the beer in his hand and Sports Center on the TV.

As the bar picked up more patrons, Sid watched a debate on the TV about whether the Dallas Cowboys should continue to put their faith in Tony Romo after their abysmal season. He sipped his beer in relative peace and occasionally checked out the bartender, who remained too busy to return long enough to catch his name.

The bartender had just slid a second beer, darker than the first, over for Sid to try when a voice to his right made him jump. "Anybody sit here?"

When Sid turned to look, a shock ran through him. He remembered enough of the drama his first season to know what Evgeni Malkin looked like.

Malkin looked a little nervous, like maybe he thought Sid might yell at him. When he offered a smile, his eyes stayed solemn, perhaps a little sad.

"No, go for it," Sid offered, and he pulled the barstool out. "It's nice to finally meet you, Evgeni."

"Call me Zhenya," Malkin said as he sat.

Sid felt a little thrill. He knew enough about the Russian name game to realize he was privileged. "Sid," he offered, though it didn't mean anything. Everybody called him Sid. "Buy you a drink?"

Zhenya's smile looked relieved as it finally touched his eyes. "Sure." He ordered a beer by jerking a thumb at Sid's glass and saying, "One of those."

The bartender didn't look nearly as charmed by Zhenya, but Sid figured it was that time of year. Canadians were wild about their national hockey, and nobody would be overly friendly to adversary teams until the Olympics were over. The bartender poured another glass and looked between them like he was worried they would fight before he went back to tend the group of men playing pool and taking shots.

"You not with team?" Zhenya asked.

"I'm kind of the first one here," Sid laughed sheepishly. Zhenya looked startled.

"You don't come all..."

"Together? No. We're all coming in from different areas. We practiced in Toronto a couple times, but we're mostly just working it out here."

Zhenya snorted derisively and then looked a little ashamed. "Sorry. Is crazy to me. You don't ever play? You get so kill."

Sid chuckled. "I think we'll be okay, but thanks for the concern. How long have you guys been going?"

"Like, all summer. Four year. Same team from Olympics before, only like three guys is different."

Zhenya looked so proud of that fact, sitting up straighter with his shoulders back. Sid's mutinous smile was starting to take over his face.

"What?" Zhenya asked when Sid just grinned at him.

"Nothing. You're just...as advertised."

Zhenya frowned at that. "Big word," he grumbled and started to pull his phone out. Sid reached to touch his wrist and stop him.

"Sorry. Um, you're really patriotic. Mr. Russia. That's what they said when you didn't come. To Pittsburgh."

Zhenya’s frown didn't resolve.

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with that. We were bummed, sure, but like--we got it. You didn't want to leave home. Nobody blamed you for that. Not everybody wants to play in the NHL."

Somehow, Sid was still digging a hole. Zhenya's frown was growing devastated, like Sid was debasing something sacred. Zhenya looked down at his glass and said softly, "I want to play in NHL my whole life."

Sid's breath was checked out of him by the pain in those words. "Oh," he said lamely. "Um. I’m sorry. That's not how it was put to us."

Zhenya snorted. "What they say? I want to play home team? I love my city, can't leave?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Zhenya shook his head with a disgusted sigh. "They tell this to Mario Lemieux?"

Sid nodded. He reached hesitantly out and grasped Zhenya's arm. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Zhenya said offhand, like it was something he always said to deflect questions. "I'm fine."

Sid felt terrible for bringing him down. He patted Zhenya's arm once more and pulled his hand away. "I guess none of that really matters here, right?"

Zhenya's smile was strained, but he tried. "Right. Here, Russia beat Canada, beat USA, go home with gold. Easy."

Sid laughed, and Zhenya's smile loosened until it was a genuine, sly grin. "Hey. Do you ever watch football?"

Zhenya did not, and it took the remainder of their beers to explain the basics of American football. At first, Zhenya squinted at the highlights on ESPN dubiously. Still, by the end of the beers, Zhenya was leaned in with focused interest as the Sports Center crew analyzed Super Bowl highlights.

"This is best quarterback?"

"Drew Brees? Yeah, I guess. Best this year, for sure."

"Who best for you?" Zhenya asked, eyes sharp with interest.

"Roethlisberger. He got hurt this season, but once he's a hundred percent, he'll be a monster."

"He play for...where you live?"

"Oh, no. I'm from Nova Scotia. We don't have football. Like, at all. I picked it up in America. Roethlisberger plays for Pittsburgh."

The reminder of the city seemed to darken Zhenya's mood again. He swung his eyes up to the TV. "Pittsburgh," Zhenya murmured, rolling the word across his tongue with barely any accent, like he'd said it a thousand times.

When the bartender glanced over, Sid signaled for two more beers. Neither one of them had any driving to do, so he figured getting a little drunk couldn't hurt. Besides, Sid really wanted to take that gutted look off Zhenya's face and make him smile again. He wasn't above cheating, using alcohol to loosen Zhenya's mood.

The conversation turned to the FIFA World Cup. Sid found himself in the opposite position, listening intently while Zhenya gave a rundown on the teams, focusing on "fucking Barcelona." His eyes lit up with intensity when he complained about their revolutionary style of offensive play and how they were changing the game itself.

"Sounds like everyone else needs to learn to keep up," Sid offered slyly, and Zhenya wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Nobody at that level actually wants their opponent to slow down, right? They want to beat them at their best. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Zhenya was smiling at him. "This why you captain, huh?"

"What?"

"Penguins. Sometimes I wonder, why this Crosby is captain? He so young. Never win Stanley Cup. I see now."

Zhenya sounded so fond, the way he said it, mouth curving softly when he talked. His lips were plush and red and wet from where he ran his tongue over them. Sid really didn't want to stop looking.

By the time Zhenya ordered him a shot, insisting, "No, no, you see. Is Russian vodka, very good. No bad taste," Sid was no longer entirely conscious of his own body language. Zhenya threw an arm over the back of his barstool when the shots came and toasted him with a huge, relaxed grin. "Russian way, yes? Za zda-ró-vye."

Sid returned the grin so happily and tried his best to repeat the words, but Zhenya chuckled and shrugged at his pronunciation. It must have been close enough because he took the shot. When they smacked the empty shot glasses back onto the bar, Zhenya held up two fingers in a casual signal for two more.

"You trying to get me drunk?" Sid teased as if he wasn't already mostly there. 

"Yes, get drunk and have fun. Go dance."

"Buddy, you _really_ don't know me if you think I'm going dancing."

"I want," Zhenya said, tone soft enough to pull Sid's amused attention away from the bartender's hands pouring the shots. He looked over and found Zhenya not smiling back at him. His eyes were so dark and full of something significant--intent, maybe. "I want to know."

Sid's heart stumbled at the earnest way Zhenya was looking at him. "I, uh...I was thinking about getting a hotel for the night. Away from Olympic Village."

Zhenya's eyes didn't waver.

"Maybe...you want to come with?"

"Yes. I want."

Sid paid the tab with shaking hands. He kept glancing at Zhenya, trying to gauge him, to see if maybe he'd read the situation wrong somehow. It seemed so unlikely that this missed connection from their youth was turning into something sexual. But Zhenya followed him into a cab and back out at the Four Seasons. He looked around with big eyes at the city, but he stuck close to Sid while he booked them a room and, on a whim, ordered a bottle of wine sent up.

"Wine?" Zhenya asked in the elevator.

"Sure," Sid answered, unwilling to say he was just nervous as hell and might need the additional alcohol to keep from running away. He was hooking up with the man who was supposed to be his teammate--it was fucking crazy. "To celebrate."

Zhenya looked down with a smile and removed his hand from his pocket. Sid didn't jump when Zhenya's hand touched his, fingers sliding across Sid's palm and wrapping around. They were in an elevator in Vancouver going to the twenty-fifth floor of a Four Seasons to fuck instead of joining their respective teammates at the Olympics. It felt absolutely surreal.

Sid got a lot more okay with it when the door to their room closed, and he didn't even get a chance to look around before Zhenya kissed him. Sid was halfway out of his jacket when he did it. He had to awkwardly slide it off while angling for a better position to kiss someone so tall. It hit the floor with a soft sound, and Sid was free. He pushed closer, so their bodies were pressed together, and anchored Zhenya in with a hand on his shoulder.

When Zhenya pulled away, his eyes looked darker than before. He seemed absolutely certain about what he wanted and who he wanted it from. Sid was happy to oblige, using the grip on his shoulder to pull him back in.

Time flew by with them just kissing, Zhenya working his tongue into Sid's mouth and driving him crazy. Sid was so focused he jumped when someone knocked, then laughed. "The wine," he said. "I'll get it."

Zhenya casually adjusted his dick in his pants before he stepped away, which Sid paused to watch. He lingered on a long view of Zhenya's ass while he sauntered across the room, and the bellhop had to knock again.

Sid answered the door with an apologetic grimace and got into a very Canadian chat with the bellhop about the weather this time of year and how lucky they were to have the cold temperatures they did for the Olympics, though it was a shame they didn't get more real snow. The conversation was so polite, Sid came away genuinely uncertain if the guy had recognized him.

Sid carried the wine through the foyer into the main room with a bemused grin about the encounter, but his story died on his tongue when he saw Zhenya. 

Zhenya had toed out of his shoes and taken his jacket off. He was working on unbuttoning his shirt. His skin was pale and flawless with a little dusting of hair down his chest. He looked up when he felt Sid staring, just standing there with two glasses in one hand and an open bottle of chardonnay in the other. Zhenya grinned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Sid lied, eyes wandering freely over the new skin revealed when Zhenya shrugged out of the shirt.

"You drink or just hold?" Zhenya teased, gesturing to the bottle. He flopped back to sit on the bed and take his socks off.

Sid didn't care about the wine even a little bit. He put the bottle and glasses down on the table and toed out of his shoes.

"Don't want?"

"I'm not thirsty."

Zhenya looked him over with obvious amusement. Sid wasn't sure how he felt about being laughed at while he stripped, but Zhenya was still peeling clothes off himself, so he let it slide.

Sid pulled his shirt up over his head to drop it on the floor. When he regained sight of Zhenya, he found him no longer looking amused. "What?" Sid mocked gently. He'd been working out a lot to prepare for the Olympics, and he knew what he looked like. Maybe he flexed a little bit for added benefit--sue him. It did something for him, obviously, because Zhenya leaned forward and caught his wrist to pull him into the space between his thighs. Sid had to lean down to kiss him again.

Zhenya's hands shook when they descended on Sid's belt. He got it undone without too much fumbling and went immediately for the button and zipper. Sid gasped at the drag of pressure against his dick. Zhenya shoved his trousers down, and the teamwork had him down to his underwear in record time.

"I want," Zhenya murmured against Sid’s mouth. His fingers were threaded into Sid's hair, holding him close.

Sid would let him do anything--he was down for all of it. But Zhenya wasn't pressing for anything. He seemed to have stalled on just kissing. Sid pushed on him a little, testing whether he would allow it. Zhenya scooted back on the bed, following the push of Sid’s hands, and laid back to let Sid crawl over him. Sid slotted a thigh between Zhenya's as he went. Zhenya made a needy sound against his mouth when Sid pressed down against the hard line of his dick.

"Like that?" Sid murmured, growing confident from the way Zhenya responded to everything he did like it was the best thing ever. He was so into it, bucking up against Sid's thigh and practically whimpering against his mouth.

"Yes, so good."

Well, if Zhenya was okay with him taking control, Sid certainly wasn't complaining. Sid reared back and pulled Zhenya's boxers down his long legs. Before he propped over him again, he reached down to push Zhenya's thighs apart so he could settle between them. Zhenya pushed on his underwear, and Sid obliged, working them down and kicking them off.

Sid's dick settled against Zhenya's groin, and he couldn't help a relieved groan. It had admittedly been a while. He didn't usually hook up during the season, despite Flower's constant--almost overwhelming--reassurance that nobody on the team would care. The media would. The fans probably would. Besides, the season was for hockey, and he didn't want to be distracted. He could fuck people all summer in places other than Pittsburgh. It was easier that way, keeping his personal and work life separate. The effect was that he hadn't had a guy touching his dick in well over four months, and it felt amazing.

Sid pushed his hips against Zhenya's, enjoying the delicious drag of skin against his. "God, I wish I could fuck you," he said, knowing they couldn’t. They didn’t have anything with them--just the clothes they wore in.

"Please," Zhenya begged.

"You like that?" Sid asked, surprised by the enthusiastic green light. It got him wondering how realistic a run to the nearest store might be before Zhenya locked a leg around his hip and pulled him in again. Sid propped himself up. He rubbed against Zhenya's dick in earnest until Zhenya wasn't pleading in English anymore--he was moaning out a steady stream of Russian. "Okay, hang on."

Zhenya tried to keep him there when he moved, but Sid gently pulled away from his hands.

"Trust me," he assured, kissing down Zhenya's chest. Zhenya caught on and stopped protesting when Sid reached his stomach and kept going. Zhenya gasped when Sid steadied his dick with a hand and wrapped his lips around it. Sid pushed the flat of his tongue up against the head, and Zhenya bucked. His fingers nervously settled on Sid's head, threading through his hair again without pulling or pressing.

Sid only got a couple minutes to work his mouth on Zhenya before Zhenya started twisting away and tugging on him to return. Sid obliged, slotting again between his thighs with an understanding grin. "You close?"

"Close," Zhenya agreed, cheeks flushed and lips bitten red.

Sid was closer to the edge than he would prefer, too, but they had the hotel all night. He didn't see a reason to hold off when they could just go again later. He worked a hand down between them and wrapped it around Zhenya's dick to pump him slowly.

"You want to come like this or in my mouth?" Sid asked, kissing up to his neck.

Zhenya locked an ankle around the back of his thigh and sobbed out a moan.

"Like this, eh?" Sid teased, but he adjusted his grip to give more pressure. Zhenya gripped Sid's shoulders hard like he was trying to hold off. "It's okay. Go ahead and come. I want you to."

Zhenya shook his head, but he didn't look like he had much choice anymore. He was teetering, and it only took another couple of pulls before he bucked up and moaned. A splash of wet heat pulsed out and slicked Sid's fingers. He reared back before Zhenya got too sensitive and knelt over him to jerk himself off. His eyes roamed over Zhenya's splayed form, sweaty and panting and boneless. With that piece of pornography in front of him, it didn't take long for Sid to shoot over Zhenya's stomach.

They were left breathing hard together. It felt like coming off a successful shift where Sid and Zhenya both scored, a thought that got Sid laughing breathlessly.

"What?" Zhenya asked.

"Nothing. Just...that felt really good."

Zhenya grinned shyly and started to move. Sid pressed a hand on his shoulder.

"No, stay. I'll get a towel."

Zhenya's eyes went all soft. Sid pushed himself up on shaky legs and went to the bathroom for a hand towel. He ran it under a warm tap and returned to help Zhenya clean all the come off his stomach. When he was done, he got them both under the covers and put his head on a pillow.

"It’s good," Zhenya said, sounding like he was just coming to terms with it.

"Fuck yeah, really good. I'll be up for round two here in half an hour."

Zhenya looked surprised at that. "Again?"

"For sure," Sid assured, and Zhenya smiled. "Hey. Come here."

Zhenya followed the pull of his hands until his head settled on Sid's chest. Sid wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him close. It felt really great to be cuddling after sex, not pulling up his pants and discretely leaving. Enjoying the afterglow of an orgasm with a partner--well, that had been a lot longer than four months.

*****

Sid woke up to a flurry of movement and some words that were unmistakably curses, even if he didn't understand the language. Sid raised his head and squinted at Zhenya, who was pulling on pants with his phone wedged against his ear. Zhenya said something apologetic in Russian while he buckled his belt and shot Sid a regretful look. Sid shrugged his forgiveness and focused on the flex of Zhenya's abs while he looked around for his clothes.

Zhenya hung up after saying a few more things and snapped his only visible sock up from the floor. "Sorry, I sleep too much."

"It's cool. I get it. My team probably wants me to show up at some point, too," Sid said, feeling a sudden stab of guilt about that. Not only did he need to meet up with Team Canada, but his parents and sister would also be in that afternoon. Sid pushed himself up. Zhenya's other sock appeared in the sheets, and he grabbed it on his way out of bed.

"I miss meeting," Zhenya said, pale as he pulled the first sock on with shaking hands.

"I'm sure they'll forgive you," Sid offered. He kissed Zhenya on the head and handed him the second sock. "You couldn't adjust to the timezone, eh? Just a little jetlag."

Zhenya looked up at him with so much in his expression. It wasn't just worried--it was a lot more than that. It was something uncomfortably close to fear, and it halted Sid's relaxed mood.

"Zhenya, it's going to be okay. It's just a meeting."

Zhenya nodded. He didn't look comforted. "I have to go."

"Don't you have time to at least grab a shower?"

"No. I go. I'm..." He looked over Sid's naked body. "I'm sorry. I want--"

"I get it," Sid insisted again. "Really. I have the same obligations. It's totally fine. Go be with your team."

"Okay. Thanks, Sid," he said in one relieved exhale. He was halfway to the door before he turned back. "I have really good time. Wish we do again."

Sid smiled at the memory of their night. "Me too. Maybe I'll keep the room, eh? We can have somewhere to escape."

Zhenya's expression flickered with that fearful worry again, and Sid's smile dropped. "Maybe," Zhenya said doubtfully. "I will try."

That didn't sound likely. Ah well. Sid was well versed in one-night stands. The guy who lived thousands of miles away at least had a good reason for not wanting to take it any farther. Sid forced a smile, shooed Zhenya out to make his obligations, and turned back to the room to find it alarmingly quiet. He stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other in the silence before he forced himself to move and walk into the bathroom to get ready. It was fun, but Sid was in Vancouver for a reason. He was there to play hockey for his country, and it was time to get focused on that.

Sid took a shower and changed back into the clothes he'd traveled in the day before, feeling a little gross about it. But it wasn't a long journey back to Olympic Village.

In the interest of discretion, Sid called down to the front desk for a cab before he left the room. Maybe nobody would care about two hockey players from different countries waiting outside the hotel for a taxi, one right after the other, but the fewer questions he invited, the better. By the time he took the elevator down to the lobby, his cab was waiting for him to jump in.

The Olympic Village Sid returned to looked completely different from the one he'd experienced the day before. The hollow, empty spaces were filled with bustling, rowdy athletes. From the second he stepped out of the cab, there were people everywhere, running around and laughing. It felt much more comfortable to walk up to his building with the buzz of noise and activity going on around him. It made Sid feel less like he was somehow lost.

Sid didn't make it halfway across the lobby before someone shouted, "Croz!"

Sid turned with a smile already blooming on his face. He found Shea Weber trotting up to him like an enormous puppy in a Team Canada sweatshirt, grinning away. "Hey, man. What's up?" Sid said, reaching out a hand. Shea grasped it briefly and then fist-bumped him.

"Where you been? I got in last night at like nine p.m., and all I saw was your bags."

"Oh, are we roomies? Cool."

"Fuck yeah. Big guys, tiny beds. What could possibly go wrong?"

Sid laughed with him. He was relieved to have someone as easy-going as Shea for a roommate. It would make the stay a lot easier.

"You hungry?" Shea asked. "A bunch of us were just rounding up to go eat."

"Starving. I just gotta hit the room for a sec."

"If we're not down here when you get back, just meet us at the chow hall."

"Sure thing."

Sid walked away with a smile pulling on his mouth still, feeling grounded again. Soon, he would be surrounded by his team at breakfast, just like he would be on a roadie with the Penguins. They would start their team meetings that afternoon and start planning their practices. He would meet his parents and Taylor once they landed. And then, after the sun went down, he and the whole team would dress up in their Canada swag and walk in the opening ceremony because--holy shit--Sid was at the _Olympics_.

He burst through the door of his room and stopped for a second, heart pounding. For the first time since arriving, it hit him that this was real, he was there as part of Team Canada, and they were about to start fighting for a gold medal. He took a steadying breath and rushed to get changed, anxious to be with his team.

*****

The opening ceremony felt absolutely surreal, standing there with so many athletes from other sports. Sid shook so many hands and couldn't hope to remember everybody's names. In some ways, it was awesome. He felt almost anonymous, which for him, was a rare treat. The press was obsessed with some up and coming figure skater and a downhill skier who'd come back from a broken leg, and people with microphones didn't flag Sid down at all. It was great.

Sid met his family after the ceremony to head to dinner. His mother got all teary-eyed when she saw him approaching. “Aw, don’t,” Sid protested as he hugged her. If she cried, _he_ might cry, and nobody needed that.

“Been like this the whole ceremony,” Sid’s father said, an extremely fond tease. “Should have seen the waterworks when she spotted you on the big screen.”

Sid’s mother pulled back and cupped his cheeks. “We’re just _so_ proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, definitely starting to choke up. Thankfully, Taylor swooped in with all her thirteen-year-old enthusiasm.

“What’s it like playing with the dudes who are normally trying to kill you? Did you meet Tessa and Scott? That is a _really_ red jacket. Can I try on your scarf?”

“I haven’t played with them yet. I don’t think I met any figure skaters. And yes.” Sid took off his Team Canada scarf and wrapped it around her, intentionally covering her mouth. Taylor pushed it down and smacked his arm.

Hanging out with his family, Sid lost track of time and ended up dragging into his room after midnight. Shea was passed out, face down in a pillow with his feet hanging off the end of the bed. Sid shook Shea’s ankle cautiously until he turned his head enough he could definitely breathe, then stripped down and collapsed on his own mattress.

An alarm went off seemingly ten seconds later, and Sid groaned. Shea slapped a hand on the clock with a mumbled apology.

"Wanted to get an early start," Shea explained. He sounded like he might be regretting the idea.

Sid closed his eyes tight for a second, breathed slow, and lifted his head. The clock read 5:30 am. He resisted throwing a pillow at Shea for waking him up. After all, their first team meeting would be at 8:00, followed by a practice. If Sid wanted to squeeze in enough time to work out and eat, getting up this early was a good idea and one he probably should have thought of himself.

"It's okay, I'm up," Sid mumbled, and pushed himself out of bed to prove it.

After that, the day flew by in a blur of the crowded gym, breakfast with a bunch of bleary-eyed teammates, meetings, practice, more meetings, and a short nap in the afternoon before he had to go meet his parents for dinner. The next day went pretty much the same way, and the day after that, and before he knew it, Sid was waking up on game day.

Sid didn't shake in the locker room, but only because he consciously stopped himself. His nerves were pulled tight, muscles like coaxial cable. He tried stretching a dozen times, went for a massage, and in the end, settled on merely hoping he wouldn't pull something in the game.

Half an hour before puck drop, Sid pulled his jersey on and looked down at it. A red maple leaf adorned the front instead of a hockey-playing penguin. He fought a grin and tamped down on his excitement as he stood to go for warm-ups.

The captain, Niedermayer, nodded at him when Sid joined him at the door. "Nervous?"

"No," Sid said, and he was pretty sure he was telling the truth. He wasn't nervous--he was excited, anxious to get on the ice and show everyone what his country could do. They weren't the clear favorites for nothing.

Niedermayer chuckled and tapped Sid’s helmet with a glove. "Whatever you say, kid. Just score a couple, eh?"

"I plan on it," Sid said and made the veteran shake his head with a wry smile.

Warmups went by in an instant. By the time Sid found his parents in the crowd and waved to Taylor, their ice time was nearly up. At least his legs felt looser.

In the locker room again, Sid didn't strip off the jersey like he would at home. It felt disrespectful somehow. He wanted to keep it on until the game was over. Coach Babcock barked a few instructions about using their superior physical size to dominate the game. Sid figured that wasn't so much directed at him. Then Babs gave the starting line. "Weber, Niedermayer, Bergeron, Nash, and Crosby. Luongo, you got the net."

Sid felt another surge of adrenaline. He'd hoped but certainly not expected to be a starter. Not here, in a locker room full of superstars. A couple teammates clapped him on the back from left and right, congratulating him on the acknowledgment.

In another small flash of time, Sid was on the ice again. His teammates were filing in on the bench and settling like chickens while he and the other first liners made their way to center ice. The crowd was so loud Sid could barely think, hardly remembered to give a nod to Bergy to let him know the faceoff was coming to him. And then Sid was bending in, face to face with Norway's top center. The puck dropped, and the game was underway.

Canada won emphatically, blanking Norway 8-0. Sid didn't score, but he helped shut down all the breakaway attempts against his line, and he was involved in enough of the goals to feel confident he'd be the top-line center again next game. His teammates were all giddy and loud on the way back down the tunnel at the end of the game, and Sid was swept right along with it, overjoyed and eager to get to the next one so they could win it, too.

No sooner had Babs left the room than Sid's teammates began to conspire about where to party. Suggestions flew about dancing or drinking or laser tag. The last one sounded pretty solid to Sid, even if it got laughed at like it wasn't a serious suggestion. He stayed quiet, happy to join them wherever, assuming his parents didn't have plans.

They ended up at some loud club where most of the guys could hit on girls and dance. Sid hugged a corner of the bar for a couple of beers, then called it quits. He made it back to his room late and hesitated a minute before he turned off Shea's alarm. Surely, they'd earned a little extra sleep.

*****

Wednesday morning dawned without Sid’s knowledge. He slept right through it, even when Shea stumbled in after five and collapsed in bed. Sid only became aware enough to open his eyes when his stomach had been growling for half an hour. When he raised his head, the clock glared almost ten.

Team Canada was without meetings or practices, with the coaches preferring to rest them the day between games. Sid got up and put on sweatpants with a Canada jacket and shuffled out to find breakfast without waking Shea.

Not surprisingly, the chow hall was playing clips of Olympic coverage. Sid got there just in time to see the final Canadian goal against Norway and grinned reflexively. There weren’t that many people in the hall, and he could be forgiven for getting excited about his team’s win.

Sid put every kind of chopped fruit they had on a bowl of oatmeal and found an empty table facing a TV. He was just shoveling the first bite into his mouth when Russia’s game highlights started. He didn’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

Zhenya scored in the second period, the third highlight shown. It was a pretty goal on the power play, a perfect setup. Zhenya took the faceoff, won clean, and then parked himself in front of the net for a screen. Nobody from Latvia encouraged him to move away, so he stayed until a slapper from Kovalchuk bounced out, and he whipped it in on the rebound. It was a class on how to dominate a power play offensive. The Russians would be tough to beat, Sid could tell.

“What are you smiling about?” Flower asked as he crashed next to Sid. He’d been spending so much time with Vero, this was the first time they’d seen each other outside team events.

“Nothing,” Sid replied guiltily.

Flower looked up at the TV and squinted. “That’s the Russia game yesterday?”

“Yeah. They won eight-two.”

“Yes, well,” Flower started with a shrug. He bit into a piece of bacon and gestured at the TV with the remainder. “They didn’t get a shutout, so how special can they be?”

Sid chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re nothing to worry about. Just Ovi and Kovalchuk and Datsyuk and Semin and Malkin.”

“Ah, our lost son, hmm?”

“Yep. Their top center.”

“So, he is your problem,” Flower said flippantly. “If we play them, you win all the faceoffs, and hopefully, I will never meet him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Sid chatted with Flower through breakfast while he occasionally texted his mother. His family was up at their hotel, milling around. They were planning to meet him for some sightseeing downtown if they could drag Taylor out.

Sid texted--_Tell her there’s a palace._

His mom didn’t text back for a few minutes. Then, she sent a picture of Taylor sneering, arms crossed. Sid laughed. His sister never was big on princesses.

“What?” Flower asked.

Sid showed Flower the picture. “I don’t think she likes our sightseeing plans. Any ideas?”

“Did you tell her about the aquarium? They have seals.”

“I’m not sure she’ll be impressed by seals,” Sid said, but he sent it as an offer. Less than five minutes later, his mom said they were on the way, so he figured it was successful, and they were going to the aquarium.

Sid met his family outside of Olympic village and spent the day wandering the city with them. It was so worth the way his feet ached at the end, knowing his skates would feel raw in the morning, to spend so much uninterrupted time together. It was rare anymore, particularly in the middle of a hockey season.

Sid dragged back to Olympic village after dinner, feeling guilty about the ice cream he’d offered to share with Taylor and proceeded to eat most of. Instead of crashing into bed to watch TV, Sid forced himself to get dressed for a quick workout before bed. At least if he lifted some weights, maybe the protein in the ice cream would go to a good cause.

Back home in Pittsburgh, Sid preferred to work out in the early morning, before anyone was around. That usually meant going to the practice rink an hour and a half early to shut himself away in the gym. He would crank his music there with only the equipment managers around to razz him for it. Since Shea rose so early, Sid had maintained the routine so far, only he’d been finding the gym crowded with athletes of the same mentality. Working out at the crack of dawn, as it turned out, was a common trait.

Going to the gym after sundown, when most people were either settling in or partying, worked out great for him. Sid entered the nearly-deserted gym and warmed up slowly on one of the many open treadmills before moving on to a completely empty weight room. He still had to wear earbuds for the few stragglers and poor sleepers also taking up the exercise equipment, but he could survive that much.

Part of the reason Sid typically eschewed headphones was because it made him easier to sneak up on. He wasn’t jumpy, exactly, but he liked to know when people were coming at him. With the earbuds in, Sid never knew somebody entered the weight room while he was pulling down on a lat bar. He never saw that somebody stop at the sight of him and slowly grin. He never saw the door close.

Sid tensed when a hand brushed his shoulder. He felt oddly scolded, as though he’d been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, a Canadian instinct to apologize welling up in his chest as he turned to see who it was.

Zhenya’s smile was as carefree as it had been in the bar, long before he’d run out the door the next morning. His hair was messy and wind-swept, and he was flushed pink like he’d jogged over in the cold from the dorms. “Hi, Sid.”

“Zhenya, hey! What are you doing here so late?”

“Same as you,” Zhenya said with a shrug, gesturing vaguely at the weights. “Work out. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I was just getting started.”

Zhenya looked really happy to have Sid’s invitation to stay, which was strange. It wasn’t like he needed permission.

They worked out together in happy companionship, not intersecting much as they focused on different muscle groups, but Zhenya was always present. Sid’s eyes kept straying over, following the lines of Zhenya’s forearm up to the curve of his bicep while Zhenya pulled a dumbbell up. He jerked his eyes away when he was almost caught, but found them drifting back when Zhenya laid down for a set of skull crushers. Zhenya’s shirt lifted while he moved, revealing a tantalizing strip of pale skin.

“Stop,” Zhenya grunted, not pausing his workout at all. Sid nearly apologized before he saw the teasing look on Zhenya’s face, the amused glint in his eye when he glanced over.

Sid let the handles on the chest fly machine drop back into place and kept on looking. “What happens if I don’t?”

Zhenya smirked, but never stopped his reps. Sid was more than just attracted--he was smitten. A guy who looked like that and took his workouts seriously? That was ideal.

Sid was just finishing his last row when Zhenya appeared beside him. Sid grinned up at him. “You hitting the showers, or cooling down first?”

“No,” Zhenya said abruptly. “Come.”

There was zero chance Sid would disobey his order.

Zhenya led Sid down the hall, walking like he knew exactly where he was going. He found the door he was looking for and turned into it, shouldering it open. Sid paused. “Wait, Zhenya,” he hissed, but the door was closing. He hesitated a second and charged forward. “Zhenya. This is a women’s locker room.”

“I know,” Zhenya’s amused voice said in the dark while Sid carefully crept forward. The lights flicked on and revealed Zhenya looking smug just a few feet away. “Come,” he said, and he was off again, searching through the locker room for something.

“What are we doing in here?”

“I show,” Zhenya assured, and he turned a corner. “Ah, there!”

Sid followed him around the corner and saw showers. Individual showers with doors that closed, shutting each shower stall off from the rest of the locker room, unlike the men’s locker rooms, which had an open shower and no privacy at all. Sid laughed. “Wow. _That_ is forethought. How’d you know about that?”

Zhenya shrugged and blushed a little in a way that said it was an interesting story, but he maybe didn’t have the language skills to recount it. Instead, he reached out a hand, and Sid followed Zhenya's pull into a shower stall and into a kiss.

Their breath sounded loud, echoing off the tile. Sid ran a hand under Zhenya’s shirt to feel his stomach, slick with cooling sweat and anchored the other one around the back of Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya pushed Sid back and yanked his shirt over his head. Then he unfairly used Sid’s shirt to pull him back in before he could do the same thing. Zhenya flipped them, so Sid was trapped against the cool tile. His gasp at the shock of cold got muffled in Zhenya’s mouth and turned into a pleased hum.

They stalled on making out for a long time. Sid remembered in the hotel room--when Zhenya seemed so eager but also kind of shy. He acted almost like he had never had sex before, which could _not_ be correct--not with the lewd, sure way he kissed. So, maybe Zhenya had never done it with a guy.

It was no problem. Sid took the lead just like he had in the hotel and pushed Zhenya’s shorts down his hips, carefully freeing his cock. Then he pulled back to spit in his hand and started to lazily jerk Zhenya off. Zhenya put their foreheads together, shakily breathing against Sid.

“Hey,” Sid said. His voice sounded loud even though it was barely a whisper. “Zhenya, hey. Look at me.”

Zhenya opened his eyes. They were very dark. Sid grinned.

“Want me to suck your dick?”

Zhenya licked his lips. “Um, hard...hard floor.”

“It’s fine.” Sid ran his thumb over Zhenya’s cockhead and elicited a hitch in his breath. “All you need to worry about is what you want. You want my mouth?”

Zhenya tipped his head back and breathed out slowly. “Fuck. Okay, yes. Yes, I want.”

Sid smirked and pushed him back. He finally shucked out of his clothes and tossed them away, then locked eyes with Zhenya and slowly knelt.

Zhenya said something in Russian that sounded obscene when Sid ran his hands up Zhenya’s thighs. Sid hadn’t even kissed the head of his cock yet, and Zhenya seemed overwhelmed. Sid took his time, trailing his open mouth down the cut of Zhenya’s hip, breathing in the scent of him when he paused at the thatch of neatly-trimmed hair on his groin.

“Don’t,” Zhenya muttered, but his tone didn’t sound overly appalled. Still, Sid backed off. He didn’t want to fight about the limits of what they could do without showering first. He just wanted to make Zhenya forget all his English words. From the twitching fingers in his hair and the way Zhenya’s thighs shook when Sid put his mouth on him, he figured he could probably get there pretty easy.

Sid’s knees hadn’t even started to properly ache on the hard floor when Zhenya’s hand scrabbled on his shoulder, attempting to warn him no doubt. He lightly juggled Zhenya’s balls and did not pull back. Zhenya bit off a moan, hips twitching, and gasped Sid’s name when he came.

Sid grinned to himself around the head of Zhenya’s cock, just holding him through the last aftershocks.

“Sid,” Zhenya panted, sounding at first like he was just reveling in the afterglow--but then, Zhenya repeated it, impatient, and pulled on Sid, who went willingly. He hesitated to kiss Zhenya again, thinking he might not like it after coming in Sid’s mouth. He got a pleasant surprise when Zhenya kept pulling, insisting, until Sid slotted their mouths together. They kissed slow and hot while Zhenya reached down and put his hand around Sid’s dick.

“Fuck,” Sid hissed against Zhenya’s mouth. God, he was so sensitive. Sucking Zhenya, listening to him come was enough to get him so wound up.

Zhenya hummed and smiled. “You want? Fuck?”

Sid’s focus sharpened on him. He wasn’t serious. They didn’t have anything with them for that, just like last time. But Zhenya was bringing it up again with a wicked, knowing smile. He could tell Sid liked the idea.

“Hmm. Me too. Want you in me.”

“Jesus,” Sid whispered and crushed their mouths back together to shut him up. He couldn’t handle it. He would go nuts if he had to listen to any more of that.

Zhenya stroked him slow and a little loose, but it was more than enough. Sid buried his face in Zhenya’s neck when he came and muffled his own sounds in Zhenya’s skin.

In the silence, Zhenya ran his fingers over Sid’s back and shoulders, then down again to his ass while they breathed together. He nuzzled into Sid’s hair and kissed his temple. It was nice. Sid found himself just leaning on Zhenya, relaxing into the touches.

Zhenya’s hands stopped at Sid’s hips. “Sid.”

Sid frowned. He knew the afterglow couldn’t last forever, but he’d hoped for longer than a couple of minutes.

“Hey, come,” Zhenya said. Sid pulled his head off Zhenya’s shoulder. “We can go. For shower. In boy’s locker room.”

“But we’re already in the shower,” Sid complained. He really wasn’t ready to let the moment go. He felt like he’d been shorted twice; both of the times he had Zhenya in his grasp.

“With soap? Towel?”

Sid huffed. Zhenya chuckled at him then followed it up with a lazy kiss. When Zhenya pulled back, he looked so pleased.

“This is good,” Zhenya said, preempting any thought Sid might have of asking.

“Good,” Sid echoed. He felt a little wrong-footed. At least last time, they’d been able to go to sleep together. Now, they were supposed to, what? Go take a shower together and bro-hug on the way out the door?

“Wish we can stay here,” Zhenya said. “Well,” he amended with a wry grin. “Not _here_.”

“Me too.”

Sid managed to coax him back in one more time, and they kissed, long and slow until Zhenya started to shiver in the chill of the empty locker room. That prompted Sid to finally move away, his lips lingering on Zhenya's even as he suggested leaving.

They managed to shower in the men’s locker room without sparking anything, mostly by simply not acknowledging each other. Sid got cleaned up and dressed like he would in a hockey locker room--minding his own damn business.

On his way out, Sid hesitated. There were a few other people around, and he wasn’t sure if he should act like he knew Zhenya.

Zhenya looked up with a big smile and winked at him. “Bye, Sid.” So apparently the people in the locker room weren’t a problem.

Sid felt warm all over. “Night Zhenya.”

*****

Game two against Switzerland went to a shootout. Marty made it look easy to stop the first four shots on his end, and Sid finally buried the puck for the victory. He breathed a little easier, having contributed with a game-winning goal and felt better about his status with the team after that.

After the game, Sid sat for a long time in the dressing room, grinning at jokes and relaxing. He still wasn’t out of his breezers half an hour after the horn, when most of the guys were showering or already done and getting dressed. Sid felt keyed up. If it were his choice, he would play the next game right away, like the Swiss had been nothing but a warmup.

Taylor texted him a picture of nachos. _I’m starving. Hurry up if you want some._

_She_ was starving. Sid just played a world-class hockey game, but his little sister was the hungry one. He didn’t even fight the grin pulling at him while he got moving again.

Taylor didn’t miss a beat when Sid met her and their parents outside the locker room area. “Are we staying for Russia?” she asked while thrusting the remaining cold nachos at him.

Sid’s heart skipped. “What? Why?” he asked nervously while he waved the nachos away. Did she suspect something? Had rumors seriously gotten to them?

“Because they’re amazing, hello. Don’t you want to see them play before you have to face them?”

Sid resisted a massive sigh of relief. His worry amounted to nothing more than paranoia.

“We’ve got a long way to go before we have to face them,” Sid said, recovering, but she had a point. They had tape of the Russians, but that didn’t compare to getting a first-hand view. Plus--Sid wouldn’t lie and say he _didn’t_ want to go watch Zhenya play.

His mother interjected. “We’ll probably head back to the hotel, but as long as you’re with Sid, you can go to the Russia game.”

The game was just starting. The puck was scheduled to drop after nine. Sid knew Shea would be getting him up before dawn, and staying out for a late game was maybe not ideal. But they had three days until the next game against the U.S., and Sid so rarely got to attend hockey games with Taylor.

“Yeah, alright," Sid said. "We can stay.”

“Yes!” Taylor pumped a fist and immediately started heading for the stands.

“Hold up, Speed Racer,” Sid called after her, and she flailed to a stop with a frustrated groan. “I gotta grab a sandwich or something.”

“Two words: na-chos.” She waved the glob of fake cheese and what used to be chips at him. His stomach turned.

“Seriously, two minutes. I’m throwing peanut butter on bread. Be right back.”

Sid’s parents were gone by the time he returned, and Taylor had thankfully ditched the nachos. She was bouncing in place.

“Come on, we’re missing the whole first period.”

Sid smiled and shook his head while he allowed Taylor to drag him along toward the stands.

There were plenty of people in attendance, a packed house, but Sid wasn’t above using his status to get them into a box for the game. He didn’t have to do anything, as it turned out. One of the attendants caught sight of him and ushered them up to the second floor. The attendant gestured to a box--the one reserved for Team Canada, Sid assumed, since he and Taylor were the only ones in it. He knew none of his teammates had stuck around. Even Babs had gone to dinner with his wife instead of staying for the game.

“Dude, this is awesome!” Taylor said, eyes wide as she strode to the front of the box to look down at the ice. “You’re like a celebrity.”

“Yeah, almost,” Sid laughed, thinking of how many pictures he took with people back home in Pittsburgh while trying to go grocery shopping. 

They settled in with a great view of the ice halfway through the first period when the score was still tied at nothing. Taylor took full advantage of the empty box to fidget and move around, pacing back and forth with boundless teenage energy. Sid settled more or less out of her zone and leaned his elbows on his knees while he watched.

The first time Sid caught sight of Zhenya, he had to fight against a smile to keep Taylor from asking a thousand questions. He watched Zhenya bend into the faceoff circle, shoulders straight, and leaned in to check out his stance. After all, Taylor was right. They were likely to face Russia at some point, and Sid would be taking faceoffs against him.

Zhenya was distressingly good. His finesse and soft hands were something Sid couldn’t likely match, but if they locked up, Sid could body his skinny ass off the puck and let a wing snag it away. Sid followed him across the ice, watched him circle behind the net like a shark eyeing prey. That much was fine by Sid. He was happy to abandon the high slot to a defenseman and chase his man deep into the zone.

Russia put up a good fight defensively, but they fell after eight heart-pounding shootout rounds. By the end of it, Taylor was dragging, and Sid was feeling the pull of exhaustion on his own body. He herded her out like a docile lamb and got her into a cab, where she slumped against the back seat, grinning.

“You guys are so much better than Russia,” she said, beaming.

Sid cringed. “Shh, easy with the curses.”

“It’s not a curse, drama queen. It’s a fact. You’re better. Objectively.”

“Doesn’t mean we’ll win,” Sid said. “If we play, that is.”

“If you play,” she echoed, and she almost sounded like she might try to continue jinxing the potential matchup before Sid gave her a pained look.

Sid got Taylor back to the hotel and crashed on the couch in his parents’ suite instead of trying to limp back to his room for four hours of sleep. The thought of Shea’s early alarm seemed unbearable, and he knew his mom would bring him a coffee if they got him up before noon.

*****

Three days flew by. Between the gym and practices and meals with his family and attending other winter Olympic events, Sid felt like he was always running somewhere. He felt like he barely even saw Shea, let alone the teammates with whom he was not rooming, but he did manage to snag Flower every now and again. They shared a few meals, and Flower brought Vero to join Sid’s family when they went to watch figure skating one afternoon. He mostly ignored the skating and spent the trip teaching Taylor every bad French word he could think of while Vero swatted at him.

As luck would have it, Sid was sitting with Flower the next time he saw Zhenya. It was the day before Canada's next game against the States, and they were trying to relax by playing ping pong in one of the rec rooms while Sid’s family rested back at their hotel. They had a good rhythm going, thwarting each other’s attempts to get a point, when Sid looked over Flower’s shoulder at the door and saw Zhenya. He froze, and the ball bounced on the table and sailed past his elbow.

“Ha! Too slow!” Flower crowed. His shouting drew Zhenya’s eyes over. Sid grinned, and Zhenya waved, looking a little shy about it. He hovered by the door, hesitant. Sid thought maybe he could just go over and get him, invite him to play. Zhenya wasn’t with anyone and didn’t look busy.

“Sid. Sid!” Flower said, snapping his fingers. “Hello?”

Zhenya gave Flower an appraising look, like he didn’t like the tone. Sid put his paddle down and stepped around the table. “Give me a sec, okay?”

“Are you serious? You’re quitting?”

“No, I’m coming right back.”

“Psh, one point against you, and you quit. You were not born to be a goalie,” Flower called after him.

Zhenya didn’t look entirely pleased to have Sid walking up to him. He looked wary, uncertain. His eyes cut around the room, searching for something, before they settled on Sid.

“Hey!” Sid said, grinning his best and trying to look unthreatening. He wasn’t sure what Zhenya was so worried about. He couldn’t think Sid was going to tease him about losing to Slovakia.

“Hi,” Zhenya said. His eyes were asking very suspicious questions.

“Me and my friend were just playing ping pong.”

Zhenya squinted at him. His distrustful expression doubled.

“Do you play?”

Zhenya’s eyes drifted over to Flower, who was leaning back against the table, spinning the paddle in his hand. Zhenya slowly nodded and said a word in Russian, then, “Yes, I play.”

“Do you want to play with us?”

Zhenya’s eyebrows relaxed out of their interrogative position. He looked surprised. “Play with you?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you. Well, I’ll go easy. Flower won’t have to. He sucks,” Sid joked.

Zhenya’s mouth twitched into a careful smile. With another glance around the room, he shrugged. “Okay. I will play with you.”

Flower looked up at their approach. “Ah, bringing home strays again, I see,” he said. He pushed away from the table and put out his hand. “Malkin, good to meet you at last.”

Zhenya shook Flower's hand but didn’t offer his nickname. Again, Sid thrilled at the idea that Zhenya gave him privileges not extended to others.

“Come,” Flower said, “join in. Take Sid’s place.”

“Hey!” Sid laughed, but he wasn’t really upset about being kicked out of his own game. Zhenya took up his paddle, and he leaned against a pool table to watch them.

It only took a few bounces for him to realize Zhenya was _good_. He was not “casually play sometimes during roadies” good. He was “thought about going pro” good. Flower lost miserably in minutes, cursing Sid the entire time for bringing a prodigy to the table.

“You’re the one who asked to play him first,” Sid laughed while he took Flower’s spot.

“I make bad choices. You’re supposed to stop me, _captain_.”

Zhenya looked pleased and a little smug about his performance. He twirled the paddle in his hand and smirked at Sid. “Ready?”

Oh, it was _on_. Sid wasn’t sure how he was going to win, but he was going to fucking win.

Sid pushed Zhenya more than Flower did, mostly by keeping his play aggressive and taking risks, but he couldn’t quite beat him. It was hard to mind too much, though. By the time Zhenya won the first round, he was totally out of his shell, yelling at Sid across the table in multiple languages and spiking the ball at him when Sid got a point.

“That’s cheat!” Zhenya snapped at him, appalled when Sid leaned in too far to knock the ball out of play. 

“Welcome to Sid’s world,” Flower said. “He always cheats.”

“I do not,” Sid protested.

“Tell it to your left foot in the faceoff circle, friend,” Flower teased.

It wasn’t a lie. Sid made a face at him and served the ball. Zhenya, who was no longer playing around, popped it into the corner ahead of Sid’s reflexes, and it bounced onto the floor while Zhenya stood back and grinned, so full of himself. Sid didn’t score another point in the match, which made Zhenya very happy.

Flower made up an urgent phone call to avoid playing again and abruptly left Sid alone with Zhenya. They both leaned up against the table instead of taking up the paddles.

“You’re really good,” Sid offered.

“And you,” Zhenya said charitably. It wasn’t true, not comparatively, but he looked genuine when he said it--genuine and extremely affectionate. They were standing very close together. Their shoulders were almost touching.

“Hey. You, uh...busy?” Sid asked, voice low.

Zhenya looked at him for a long beat and shook his head. “No. Not busy.”

Sid bit down on a victorious smile. He knew Shea wasn’t around. He’d announced his plans to go explore the “rain forest” he had been convinced existed outside of the city and would be gone most of the day. Sid inched his hand over to Zhenya’s and hooked their pinkies together.

“Zhenya,” a hard voice snapped from the door. Sid jumped, but not nearly as much as Zhenya did. He practically hit the ceiling. A vaguely familiar man was at the door, speaking angry-sounding Russian. Zhenya’s voice sounded just as annoyed in Russian, so maybe it was just the tone of the language. Sid couldn’t really tell.

Zhenya started to walk away, and Sid reached for his arm reflexively to stop him. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine. I have to go,” Zhenya said stiffly. “Team meeting.”

“Oh, uh. Okay. I’ll catch you later?”

“Sure,” Zhenya said. The mischief was gone from his face. He looked drained, not so much tired as empty, blank. He shook off Sid’s grip and trotted up to the man at the door, and they both disappeared, leaving Sid feeling a little lost.

*****

The game against the U.S. would be tough. They all knew it. The locker room was quiet during morning skate, tense. The team decided to stick together for lunch and return to the arena as a unit, talking in low tones about strategy.

When the tension in the locker room grew too heavy, Sid left and paced the halls for a while, seeking quiet places to get his head on straight. The crowd at the ice made his quest impossible. They were a constant drone of distant cheering and thumping of feet. He knew it was Russia’s game before theirs. It sounded like an exciting one, but he wouldn’t dare go near it. He could creep down the tunnel and peek, but he couldn’t afford to take his mind off the task. 

Sid returned to the locker room an hour before puck drop and started getting into his pads. The whole room still felt tense, subdued. Toews looked like he might be sick, which made sense. He basically had to win this game or never stop hearing it from his American counterpart on the Blackhawks.

In retrospect, Sid thought the tension probably didn’t help their game. Team Canada went out to the ice treating it like it was the most crucial game of their lives, got tunnel vision for the win, and forgot to play their game. They played back, focusing on the defensive side of things. They limited the shots on goal but never transitioned that into significant offense, which should have been Canada’s bread and butter.

They lost 3-5. The walk back to the locker room was just as quiet as the walk from, and the players all took their pads off in aching silence. Sid got out of his gear and rinsed off, a preliminary shower to wash away the game. He had an itch under his skin, a nagging feeling he could be doing more for this team that wouldn’t let him rest. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweats and shouldered out of the brooding locker room to escape.

Sid jerked to a stop when he nearly crashed into Zhenya just outside the locker room door. “What are you doing here?”

Zhenya looked around nervously and herded him away from the door. “Come.”

Sid thought about protesting--about saying the team was going out and he was expected to go with them. After a loss, it was particularly important to be together. He just needed a little time to walk the game off beforehand, and he really wasn’t in the mood to goof around. But Zhenya was clipping along with a couple of furtive glances back, looking eager. Sid figured he could probably get away with being a little bit late to dinner if it came to it. Besides, maybe a quickie would help his mood.

Zhenya nudged Sid through a door he’d clearly scoped out before. It was an unused trainers’ room, complete with exam table and chairs and medical equipment. It also had a lock, which Zhenya turned as soon as the door was closed. Then he rounded on Sid and pushed him back against the table to kiss him roughly.

“Okay?” Zhenya asked way past the rational point of that question.

“Yeah, of course.” Sid pushed up on Zhenya’s shirt. “Come on. Strip.”

Zhenya shook his head with a wry grin, but he stepped back to do as he was told. He pushed his shorts down and revealed he was wearing green boxers with little yellow birds on them, which distracted Sid momentarily.

“Nice,” he commented, hoping Zhenya would understand the tease.

“Dick? Yes, is nice,” Zhenya gave right back, and Sid couldn’t handle much more of this guy. He was already scheming ways to get him in a suitcase on the trip back to Pittsburgh. Airlines didn’t mind smuggling foreign nationals into the country, right?

“Come on, get ‘em off,” Sid encouraged when he’d dropped his shorts and stepped out of them, but Zhenya seemed suddenly shy. “What?”

Zhenya bit his lip while his thumbs teased the waistband of his obnoxious boxers.

Sid reached out to touch Zhenya’s wrist. Sid was naked and half-hard, and it was a weird time to be comforting someone, but he didn’t like the uncertainty on Zhenya’s face. “Did you want to talk first? We can.”

The doubt in Zhenya’s face sharpened into amusement. “Sure, we talk. Maybe do interview before fuck, huh?”

Sid chuckled and inched his way closer. He kissed Zhenya slowly, savoring it. Zhenya let him do it, bending to make it easier. There was nothing uncertain about the way he kissed.

After a few minutes, Sid decided to push his luck and brought his own fingers up to the waistband of Zhenya’s boxers. Zhenya didn’t stop him when he tucked his fingertips in, didn’t stop him when he applied pressure. He slid the boxers all the way down Zhenya’s hips and got no protest. Zhenya stepped out of them while Sid got a hand around his dick.

“Sid,” Zhenya murmured, and at first, Sid assumed he was just reacting to the feeling. Then he started pulling on Sid’s other hand. He wanted something. Sid followed the pull around Zhenya’s hip until his hand was cupping Zhenya’s ass. His fingertips dipped between Zhenya’s cheeks. The middle one just brushed Zhenya’s hole. It was slick. Lube. Sid froze, which made Zhenya tense up, too.

“You want...”

Zhenya looked very vulnerable, wide-eyed and timid. Sid had been able to watch enough of Russia’s games to know how confident he was on the ice. It now seemed even more shocking how Zhenya could appear so hesitant when it came to sex.

“Hey, me too,” Sid soothed. “I want to. Okay?”

Zhenya breathed again and nodded. “Okay,” he echoed, and he turned to dig around in his shorts until he found a condom. Sid was definitely finding a way to put him in a suitcase.

They settled on the floor because physical therapy tables weren’t built to hold two hockey players. Sid kicked a gymnastics mat over and put a towel on it, then shrugged when Zhenya laughed at him. “We’ve still got games to play. Do _you_ want to explain where you hurt your knees to your team?”

Zhenya’s smirk didn’t fade as he lowered himself to his knees on the mat. Sid touched his shoulder to keep him from turning.

“Can we--” Sid lowered to his knees between Zhenya’s legs. It felt kind of intimate, but he didn’t like fucking people from behind. Between intimate and impersonal, he’d take the intimacy. 

Zhenya didn’t protest. In fact, he leaned back on his elbows and tipped his knees apart like he knew exactly what he was doing, even though he wasn’t doing a great job covering the nervousness in his eyes. Sid leaned over him to kiss him. It hadn’t failed to calm Zhenya yet.

Zhenya pushed on him after a minute of making out. “Fuck me now.”

His voice wasn’t begging--it was _demanding_. Sid shook his head with a grin and tore the condom packet open. “You’ve done this before, right?”

Zhenya tipped his chin up in a stubborn challenge. “What you think? Hurry up.”

Sid thought he probably hadn’t, but he also knew Zhenya would not appreciate it if Sid said that. “Lube?”

“Is fine.”

Sid pressed his lips together doubtfully, and Zhenya started to look frustrated.

“Is fine, promise. Come, fuck me.”

Well, the condom was lubricated, and when he passed his fingers over Zhenya’s hole, it felt slick and a little loose. He must have done a pretty good job preparing himself. Zhenya huffed out a breath and hooked a bony heel around Sid's hip.

“Sid. Fuck me.”

Sid let Zhenya’s heel push him forward and propped himself up to kiss Zhenya again. He lingered on a long, sweet kiss as he lined up his cock and pushed in as slow as he could manage.

Zhenya gasped shakily against Sid’s mouth, no longer kissing but just breathing against him.

“Okay?” Sid asked, pausing. Zhenya nodded quickly. When Sid reared back to gauge his expression, Zhenya didn’t look upset or pained. He looked...wanton. His lips were red from kissing, and his eyes were half-lidded. A flush painted the high angles of his cheeks. Sid kept looking at him while he sank into his body. Zhenya stayed on his elbows and tipped his head back while Sid settled balls deep inside him.

It took a second for Zhenya to raise back up with a dazed look. “Move.”

Sid didn’t want to laugh at the imperious demand from someone who so recently blushed like a maiden at asking to be fucked, so he ducked his head to kiss at Zhenya’s neck instead.

“You take forever.”

Sid smiled against his skin. “Maybe I like to enjoy it.”

Zhenya huffed and lowered down to lie on his back. “I sleep.”

“Okay. Mind if I keep going?”

Zhenya kicked him in the thigh. Sid couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled out to push back in. Zhenya sighed like he was relieved when Sid began to move. Frustrated tension flowed out of him in the first few thrusts until he was loose and pliant, rocking back to meet Sid’s movements.

Sid braced his hands by Zhenya’s ribs and pushed himself up. When he shuffled in closer to get his thrusts deeper, Zhenya wrapped a hand around his arm. “You okay?” Sid asked, expecting another sassy retort. Instead, Zhenya just nodded quickly. Sid pushed all the way in, and Zhenya turned his head to put his hand over his mouth.

When they’d been in the hotel, Zhenya was pretty loud. Here, just a short walk away from the locker rooms, they had to be quieter. It was the same in the showers, and Sid felt a little mournful watching Zhenya force himself to stop moaning. Sid missed the sounds he’d been able to draw out of Zhenya just with a hand around his cock. He could only imagine how good Zhenya would sound now.

Sid reared up onto his knees and pulled Zhenya’s hips up, grinding into him with better leverage. Zhenya tossed his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, then put a hand over his mouth to stop from getting loud. The sounds making it through his fingers were wholly pleasurable, nothing to make Sid think he ought to stop.

Zhenya reached for his cock with his spare hand and started jacking himself off quickly. His breaths were coming in muffled little sobs of pleasure through his fingers, so there was no doubt Sid was getting him just right.

The feeling of Zhenya’s orgasm around him pushed Sid over the edge. He braced against the mat and thrust his hips forward, burying himself inside. As he came, Zhenya reached up to touch his face and run his thumb along Sid’s lower lip. “Fuck,” Sid groaned and dropped back down to bury his face against Zhenya’s neck, hips still twitching with the last of his orgasm.

Zhenya pressed a kiss to Sid’s temple while he lay there, breathing. Zhenya didn’t say anything or start to move, just petted his fingers down Sid’s back like he would stay forever, given a chance. 

“I don’t want to move,” Sid mumbled.

“Okay,” Zhenya replied softly. The shift back into shyness made Sid remember his hypothesis, that Zhenya maybe hadn’t done this before. The thought gave him the motivation to lean back and look him in the eyes. Zhenya smiled and touched his cheek.

“You, um--Was that good?”

Zhenya grinned, a little trace of the wicked sense of humor coming back into his eyes. “Want me to say how good? No. You have everybody say ‘Sidney Crosby best.’ I say you...” Zhenya rocked his hand in a so-so motion. “Just okay.”

“You moan like that for just okay?” Sid chirped and internally preened at the surprised laugh from Zhenya. He pulled out to sit back on his heels. Zhenya stayed sprawled out in front of him. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Zhenya snorted, knocked a knee against Sid’s ribs, and said something in Russian.

“What?”

“Don’t know word,” Zhenya said with a shrug. “You say nice thing.”

Sid was pretty sure Zhenya was calling him a flatterer. He trailed his fingers down Zhenya’s long shin, drinking in the sight of him. “Go to dinner with me.”

Zhenya frowned and shook his head. “Can’t. I’m with team for dinner.”

“Me too, tonight. But...tomorrow?”

Zhenya shook his head again. “No. I go with team.”

Zhenya was making excuses. Sid tried not to feel too disappointed. After all, Zhenya was letting him down easy, being kind. Sid took his hand back from Zhenya’s leg. “Okay.”

“Sorry. I wish--”

“It’s cool,” Sid said, pushing up to his feet. He disposed of the condom in the trashcan by the door and started gathering his clothes. It _was_ cool. It wasn’t like Sid was getting _nothing_ out of their hookups. More would be a bonus, but it wasn’t the end of the world if Zhenya didn’t want to date him.

Zhenya had barely moved by the time Sid was dressed. He had only pulled his hands up to rub at his eyes, mostly covering his face. Sid went back to him and knelt to touch his elbow. Zhenya lowered his hands and offered a pitiful grin. “Probably we should not do again.”

Sid nodded. He’d taken a gamble with the invite and lost--twice. Now Zhenya considered him a risk he couldn’t afford. Sid understood better than most, knew there was nothing he could say to reassure Zhenya. “Okay. Good luck with the rest of the games.”

Zhenya grabbed Sid's arm when he tried to stand. He scanned Sid’s face for a long time, like he was thinking of saying something important. “Good luck, Sid.”

"You too," Sid said and pushed himself up to his feet. He didn't look back on his way out the door. 

*****

After the loss to the States, Canada had to qualify for medal rounds, which they emphatically did. Everybody on their team felt determined to rectify the embarrassment of losing, and they beat Germany 8-2 to make it into the quarterfinals.

Sid was sitting in his stall, laughing with Toews when somebody piped up with, “Hey, who’re we playing for the quarters?”

“Russia.”

Sid’s smile froze. He felt like he got ripped out of his body--while it kept going, acting normal, talking to Toews and getting dressed, his mind was trapped in an echo. _Russia._ They were playing Russia.

Sid’s mind took a while to reconcile the information. He hadn’t particularly wanted to play the guy he’d been hooking up with since he arrived, but he’d known it was possible. Still, he supposed it didn’t really matter now, since they already agreed to stop sleeping together. Not like he would be risking a relationship if he won.

The next day, when Sid bent into the faceoff circle with Zhenya on the other side, Zhenya looked at him like he’d never seen him before--a flat stare. He wasn’t even glaring--he just appeared unimpressed, not at all like he’d allowed Sid to take him apart multiple times in recent memory. He was obviously going to be far more successful at compartmentalizing their tryst than Sid.

When the puck dropped, Zhenya snagged it away with his quick hands and darted around Sid to carry it down. Sid scrambled to catch up, cursing himself for getting distracted. He couldn’t keep thinking of Zhenya as Zhenya, but Malkin--a skilled opponent. He was nothing emotional, just an obstacle to get around.

The next time they faced off, Sid didn’t even look at his face, just focused on the dot and his breathing and the drop of the puck. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

Sid didn’t score in the game, but he didn’t have to. He won most of his remaining faceoffs and dictated plays, chased down dangerous opportunities on the Russian side, and tried his best to make sure they never got a shot away. With his line shutting down the top guys, it opened the Toews and Getzlaf lines to score, and score they did. When the horn sounded, Canada won 7-3.

Sid’s brain managed to hold onto the mentality that Zhenya was nothing to him until the handshake line, when he caught a glimpse of Zhenya’s devastated expression. When their hands clasped, Sid held on for a beat longer than most. “Zhenya--” he started before realizing he didn’t have anything to say.

Dark eyes wrenched up from the ice to meet Sid’s. Zhenya’s plush mouth pulled, a lackluster attempt to smile. “Nice meet you,” Zhenya said low, and let go of Sid’s hand. Sid felt sort of hollowed out from the exchange, realizing Russia would almost certainly leave as a team now, and he wouldn’t see Zhenya again. Not that he would even if they stayed, but it still felt--wrong.

Team Canada bounced their way back to the locker room, keyed up and loud and happy, and Sid did his best to let himself get swept away in that mood. It was the best feeling, winning an important game. They felt unstoppable now, like they’d drained out the poison and regained full health.

The unstoppable feeling carried them through the next game against Slovakia and into the gold medal game against the United States. Somehow, even though they lost to the States before, they went into the final game with their heads high, the locker room pulsing with energy instead of silent and tense. The win against the dominant Russians had given them the confidence they needed to win the whole damn thing.

And then, Sid had a gold fucking medal around his neck, a champion for his country while his teammates cried and screamed and laughed around him. It was the very last day of the Winter Olympics, and they won.

After the closing ceremony, the team went out together. At the third bar of the night, a guy sidled up to Sid and offered to buy him a drink. Sid looked him up and down--he was tall and dark-haired, but that was where any similarity between him and Zhenya ended. His eyes were blue and sharp, the wrong kind of confident--pushy.

Sid knew he couldn’t compare _every_ potential hookup to Zhenya, but he liked to think he would have the sense to turn this guy down regardless. He declined the drink and made his excuses to leave the bar so he could go back to Olympic Village and sleep there one last time. And then he would go home, put all of this behind him like a beautiful dream, and fly back to his real life with a gold medal in his bag.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Let's not talk about how hard (read: impossible) it would be to get a hotel room anywhere near the Olympics on short notice.  
2\. I'm getting better(ish) about [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/getoffmyhead)  



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